Big Capitalist

When the laughter stopped abruptly, Merlin turned his wrist and took out an ancient parchment document from his space ring. The document looked very old, the parchment was yellowed, and the edges were a little worn, but it exuded a mysterious atmosphere.

Merlin slowly unfolded the document with both hands, running his fingers along the words on it, then suddenly raised his arm, pointed at the document and said loudly: "You must know that the land under your feet was signed and given to our Arcane Academy by the Six Great Empires and the Aize Federation a long time ago. You privately built hotels, shops, and residential areas on the land of our Arcane Academy. Do you think it has anything to do with us?"

His voice was cold and strong, like a chilly winter wind, piercing through everyone's eardrums and making the originally noisy conference room suddenly so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

When the people in the meeting heard Merlin's words, the smiles on their faces froze instantly, as if they were cast under a spell. Then, a look of panic spread across their faces.

They never expected that Merlin would bring up such an ancient contract. This was like a bombshell that shattered their originally confident thoughts.

That's right, the land where the Arcane City is located does belong to the Arcane Academy. However, over the years, the Arcane Academy has been obsessed with academics and has not paid much attention to or managed the construction matters on this land. Over time, the nobles took it for granted to build large-scale projects here and expand their business territory at will.

But who could have expected that Merlin would suddenly dig up this long-forgotten old account today? For a moment, they felt a chill on their backs, as if they had seen the business empire they had worked so hard to build crumbling, but they didn't know how to deal with this sudden change.

Merlin took arrogant steps and headed straight for the center of the meeting room, where there was an exquisitely carved chair, which was obviously the president's exclusive seat on weekdays.

He pulled up a chair as if no one was around, sat down on it, and crossed his legs, feeling lazy and comfortable, as if this was not a dangerous place but his own back garden.

His eyes leisurely swept over every noble present, his eyes full of teasing and provocation, as if he was examining a group of puppets that he could manipulate.

Then, his eyes fell on the empty wine glass on the table beside him. He picked it up and shook it, making a crisp clinking sound, and then raised his eyebrows and looked at the fat man sitting not far away.

The fat man was one of the actual managers of the hotel. When Merlin looked at him like this, he was a little confused and had no idea what Merlin was up to.

Merlin clicked his tongue upon seeing this, and impatiently tapped the wine glass with his chin, and said in a commanding tone: "Pour the wine! Is this the service attitude of your hotel?" The tone was just like that of a demanding customer criticizing his subordinates.

How could the fat man dare to disobey? His body trembled violently, as if he was hit by an electric current. He hurriedly picked up the wine bottle beside him and poured wine for Merlin with trembling hands.

The wine poured into the glass, causing slight ripples. Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down the fat man's forehead and dripped onto the table, wetting a small area.

Merlin took the glass and shook it gently, watching the red wine swirling in the glass. He then brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.

In an instant, his face changed suddenly, as if he had swallowed something hard to swallow, and then with a "puff", all the wine in his mouth sprayed out, splashing the small carpet in front of him.

He stood up suddenly and slammed the wine glass to the ground. With a crisp sound of breaking, Merlin's eyes widened and he shouted loudly: "Is this the level of wine you guys drink? Disgusting and unpalatable!"

The nobles, merchants and aristocratic families in the meeting hall looked at each other in bewilderment. They had no idea what Merlin was up to with his series of actions, but they all had a clear understanding in their hearts: at this moment, the situation was out of control and the right to speak was no longer in their hands.

"Tell me, is this stuff unpalatable?" Merlin suddenly turned his head and glared at another noble beside him, his eyes revealing an unquestionable sense of oppression.

The nobleman was frightened and nodded hurriedly, his voice trembling: "Yes...it tastes terrible."

Merlin snorted coldly, then turned his gaze to a lady in gorgeous clothes sitting diagonally opposite him, raised his eyebrows, and signaled her to express her opinion.

The lady's face turned pale, and her hands unconsciously clenched the corners of her clothes. After hesitating for a moment, she still responded in a low voice: "Indeed... it's hard to swallow."

Afterwards, Merlin looked at everyone in turn like a lord inspecting his territory. Everyone who was swept by his gaze seemed to be under a spell, and could only nod and agree with Merlin's words against their will.

In the entire conference room, apart from Merlin's occasional questioning, everyone responded cautiously, and the atmosphere was so depressing that it was suffocating.

There was no way. At this moment, everyone's mind was as clear as a mirror. Merlin held the ancient contract tightly in his hand, as if he was holding a sword of Damocles hanging over his head, which could fall at any time and smash their wealth and glory to pieces. Under such deterrence, they could only follow Merlin in order to seek temporary stability.

In the luxurious banquet hall, the crystal chandeliers cast brilliant light, reflecting the luxury of everyone's clothes.

Merlin stood on the high platform, his eyes slowly sweeping over the group of so-called upper-class elites below the stage, his mouth curled up with a hint of sarcasm, his eyes full of satisfaction, and then he said: "Look at you, as nobles, heads of aristocratic families, and the richest businessmen, the wine you drink on a daily basis is no different from horse urine. How can it be worthy of your status?"

The people in the audience had different expressions. One of them, a slightly fat businessman, suddenly turned pale.

Most of the wines served at this venue on weekdays are produced by him and are carefully brewed in his estate. How could they be inferior products?

He clenched his hands into fists in his sleeves, beads of sweat oozing from his forehead, but he dared not utter a word in rebuttal and could only grit his teeth.

Merlin saw that no one responded to his speech for a long time. His eyes suddenly turned cold, and he stared at everyone with a bit of anger, raising his voice and questioning: "I ask you, am I right?"

The voice was like a sharp arrow, piercing straight into everyone.

Everyone was startled and nodded hurriedly, responding one after another: "President Merlin is right, of course he is right."

These people had fawning smiles on their faces, for fear of bringing bad luck to this person.

Seeing this, Merlin nodded slightly in satisfaction. Then, he waved his wide robe sleeves and reached out to touch the space ring on his finger.

He just stretched out his slender fingers and took out a bottle of wine. In an instant, everyone's attention was drawn to him.